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71 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

“Rosemarie has loved horses since she could walk and she is very good teaching the young

ones,” he said.

“I have been told by others, that she even rides the bronco as good as a man but I have not

seen it myself.”

I told him, “In America, there are women who ride the broncos for a competition. The same

as the men.”

“It is not right for women to do man things,” he continued.

“Raul and some of the others have watched Rosemarie breaking the potros by her self and

even dressing in mans pantalones and shirt. I did not ask her as I am too ashamed.”

I didn’t argue with him. He had his mind made up and I was an intruder in his country.

The women in the United States had just won the right to vote last year and I sure didn’t want

to explain that to Guerra. He was a hard man living in a hard country. The women were

expected to act a certain way and weren’t allowed to participate in various activities. I asked

Francisco why he was not riding the buckskin I gave to him and he said,

“Señor, he is my best horse! Would you have me treat him like a common burro?”

We were just getting to the herd, when a rider came as fast as he could, shouting something. He

was trying to say something but he was very excited and I could only get certain words. Gilberto

was getting more out of it than I was and looked at me and said,

“Señor! It is La Señorita, she is in trouble!”

Francisco and his men left as fast as their horses could run. I didn’t have any trouble keeping

up with them but I stayed behind because I didn’t know where we were going. It sounded to

Gilberto like the man said that someone had taken her from the house by force. Francisco was

like a mad man.

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